Everybody Knows This is Nowhere
by Raiderette Levin
Summary: What do John Gage and a local LA hippy have in common? Apparently a lot more than one would think!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Yes, I know, bad me, posting a new story when I already have ones that need to be finished. While going through my fan fiction archives, I found 2 chapters for this story, tweaked them, and decided to post. Please enjoy, but be forewarned, updates will probably be slow. Enjoy! :)

Dark-haired paramedic John Gage checked his watch as he stood in line. He knew it was the dinner rush, but this was a little ridiculous. He had been standing in line for more than ten minutes just to get some burgers and fries. He should have had dinner by then and been back at the station!

"Do you know Woody?"

Johnny turned around, searching for the unfamiliar voice that had spoken. He traced it to a longhaired young woman behind him wearing a granny dress. "You say something?"

"Yeah. Do you know Woody?" She was almost pretty; in fact, she was very pretty with the exception of the strange way she dressed and her unkempt hair.

"No, I don't."

"You don't? Crazy, man. You mean you've never run into him? You've gotta be putting me on." She smiled and studied him. "You mean you don't play guitar?"

He shook his head. "You must be thinking of somebody else."

"Don't play guitar?" She kind of laughed in a disbelieving way. "Crazy, man. You totally should."

Flattered, John cracked his knuckles and smiled. "Well, I've got to be honest, I've thought about it, but I don't think I could."

"Hold out your hands," she instructed. For an unknown reason, John obeyed. She studied them. "You've got nice, long fingers, man. You'd be a natural. Bet you can sing as angel-like as Crosby, Stills, and Nash."

He laughed nervously as the girl caressed his fingers. "The whole group?"

She nodded and dropped his fingers. "All combined, man."

"You don't say…" Johnny looked up to the ceiling, his mind brewing. He would _like_ to play the guitar, and the pretty girl seemed to think that he could do it. But where was he going to get a guitar and the means of learning to play it?

"You think you could learn, man? I want you to play it." She placed a frail hand on his shoulder. "Tell you what, we should skip this joint and head down to a different burger shack. I'll give you my guitar; I'm no good at playing it. You could make it big."

"Make it…?" He didn't continue, but started laughing nervously. "Look, you seem like a nice girl, but I really doubt I'd be any good at playing. I mean let's face it, I'm no Neil Young."

The girl was insistent. She took John's hand and began pulling him out of the line and towards the door. "Neil Young… Yeah cat, you're catchin' on." She led him out into the parking lot and over to a battered yellow Volkswagen Bus. Beaded curtains hung in the windows and a funny odor was wafting out of the opened window.

She entered the back of the van and returned a few minutes later with a black guitar case. Handing it to the confused paramedic, she said, "There, man, it's all yours."

He studied the black case, somewhat excited. A free guitar? No, he couldn't accept it. "I really do appreciate this, but I can't accept this…" He offered it back, but the girl didn't take it.

"No way, man, it's yours, dig? It's a gift."

"And I do appreciate your generosity, but I don't accept such expensive gifts from strangers…"

"Nobody's a stranger, man, we're al brothers." She pulled the door open to her bus. "And come on; Let's go get those burgers."


	2. Chapter 2

"King me."

Fireman Chet Kelly breathed a huge sigh before placing a red checker on top of another.

"You're gonna run me out of checkers, Roy Boy."

"Looks like you're just going to have to rethink your methods. Hmm…" Paramedic Roy DeSoto studied the checkerboard for a few seconds. He then picked up a checker and jumped two of Chet's.

Chet was in disbelief. "How do you keep doing that?" He studied the board, carefully considering his next move.

Marco Lopez was watching their game from the firehouse couch. "Hey, do you guys know when Johnny's going to be back with those burgers?"

"Soon, I hope." Captain 'Cap' Hank Stanley pressed a hand to his growling stomach. "I don't know how much longer I can wait."

The door flew open and everybody turned to see Paramedic John Gage rush in the door. "Guys! You'll never believe this!"

"I already don't," replied Hank. "You've kept us waiting for nearly twenty minutes!"

Marco held out a hand. "The burgers, amigo?"

"In a minute… In a minute…" Johnny's coworkers' eyes doubled in size when what he set on the kitchen table was not a bag of burgers. It was an odd-shaped black suitcase.

Mike Stoker, who sat at the table looked at it. "What's that?"

"Well, what does it look like?" Johnny opened the strange container and pulled out a sleek, acoustic guitar.

Cap slammed his hands down on the table. "A _guitar_? Johnny, we sent you out for dinner, not a guitar."

"Yeah. What's the catch, amigo?" Marco stood and approached the table, arms crossed.

"Well, hold on." Johnny looped the guitar strap around himself. "Before you get all upset, I've got the burgers, too." He set a greasy brown paper bag on the table.

Mike opened the bag, smelled the contents, and frowned. "Where did you get those?"

Chet frowned at the soggy bag. "That doesn't look like McDonald's."

Roy picked up the bag next, actually removing a burger. He, too, frowned. "Yeah, Johnny. Where did you get these?"

"If you guys would stop being so critical, I'll explain myself." The dark-haired paramedic pulled out a chair and sat. The others sat, as well, and looked to him.

"Well?" Said Cap. "We're all listening."

"Those burgers are from some new place somebody suggested. I though we should give it a try."

Mike pulled a burger out of the bag and removed the paper wrapper. He inspected the burger up and down. Lifting the top bun, he said, "Ketchup, mustard, pickle, and onion. It looks normal." He opened his mouth to take a bite.

"Okay," Cap looked to Johnny. "Where exactly is this place?"

"Well, it changes. This guy runs the business out of the back of his van."

Mike swallowed hard. His eyes widened.

"It's called _The Happy Place_."

Mike hastily set his burger down.

Roy spoke next. "Johnny? Where exactly did you hear about this place?"

"I was waiting in line at the usual joint. A huge line, like you'd never believe. This pretty lady next to me in line suggested it."

Marco picked up the soggy bag and studied it. "_Happy Place_, a guitar… Johnny, what is with all of this?"

The dark-haired paramedic propped one foot on a chair and situated the guitar in his lap. Smiling large, he said, "Guys? I'm going to be a Neil Young." For emphasis, he made a single, downward strum, filling the air with an atrocious, out-of-tune chord.

Chet put his hands over his ears. "Oh yeah? Well, you've certainly got a long way to go!"


End file.
